Pushing Back
by GirlLikeThat
Summary: Post ep 4.13 "All in the Family" Danny/Lindsay. Oneshot.


Post 4.13 "All in the Family"

Danny/Lindsay

I own nothing.

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The smell hits him before he even unlocks the door. Garlic. Onions. Maybe red pepper. Something thick and rich and tomato-y, he guesses. Something that on any other night would be a warm and welcome refuge from the day's vending machine entrees. But not tonight.

Tonight, Danny Messer just wants to strip down to his boxers, flick the television to ESPN, and drink himself into a nice, thick oblivion.

But, he realizes as he lets himself in, deposits his coat and badge by the door, that that ain't gonna happen. And all because of her.

She's not in the kitchen, he notices as he peeks into the pot of simmering goodness she has on the stove. The game room is empty, too, and for the briefest moment a swell of relief rises in his chest. He reaches for the beer he'd been aching for, takes a long, satisfying swallow and nearly chokes when Lindsay emerges from the bedroom.

"Hey" Her voice is nonchalant, like nothing's even happened, like he hasn't been avoiding her like the plague for the past week and a half. She's got an empty laundry basket tucked under one arm and deposits it near the pile of clothes still littering the couch. "Dinner's almost ready." She picks up one of his shirts, folds it with expert efficiency and reaches for another.

Danny scowls at the back of her head.

The rest of the beer goes down in one easy swallow, the rush of it trickling into his brain much too slowly for his liking. He doesn't want to do this tonight. His mind keeps going back to places he'd rather visit alone and damnit, she's not helping. Folding his clothes and cooking his dinner is the last goddamn thing he wants from her right now. Even that other comfort she's offered—the one he's let himself give into in the dark—is the farthest thing from his mind tonight.

"Flack let you in?" His accent is harsh, but he likes it that way, and reaches for another beer. The cap tinkles to the floor and he brushes past it.

"No," She says, her voice still even and unaffected. "He seems to think I should stay away from you. Leave you alone."

"Smart man," Danny raises his bottle in mock toast. He leans against the end of the bar, waiting for the alcohol to kick in as Lindsay folds a pair of his underwear. "Everyone around me ends up getting hurt. So, why the hell would you want to?"

"Because I love you," Her voice is simple, honest and sincere and she looks at him for the first time. He can't stand that she's seeing right though him, so he forces himself to look away. The words touch him more than he cares to admit. She's said them before, but the force of them right now—so raw and so real—is suddenly too much for him to bear. He shuts them out, shuts her out.

"Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn't," His voice is quieter, now, and he almost flinches at the bitterness that has crept into it. But it's better to be angry. Anger, he can handle. Even if it burns when he lashes out at her.

"Can't help it," She merely states and keeps folding. 'I want to—"

"Nobody asked you to be here," he cuts her off, his voice rising. Her nonchalance was really starting to piss him off. "Nobody asked you to cook my dinner and do my fucking laundry. I can take care of my damn self."

"Really?" Lindsay puts a hand on her hip and turns to him, her eyes glowing feisty in the waning evening light. "That's why you're eating candy bars for lunch, beer for dinner, and wearing last week's underwear?"

"What is this? An intervention?" Danny scoffs, pushing off the bar to drive into the living room. "Just some fancy meddling from all the people I push away?"

"No, this is me. Pushing back."

The fire in her eyes is enough to tinge a smile at the corner of Danny's mouth. He's rarely seen her like this and, though he hates to admit it, it warms his blood a bit. He sets the bottle down on the end table, watches with amusement when Lindsay's eyes narrow at his lack of a coaster.

"So, that's how it is? I push and you just give it right back, huh?" His hands move to rest on her hips, the anger dissipating with the alcohol into something more real.

"You should know that by now, Messer. I don't give up without a fight." She slides her arms across his shoulders and it's the closest they've been in days. "And I'll fight for you."

"Why?" His question is sincere. Honest. His eyes are glassy. Raw. His heart is ragged. Hurt.

"Because I love you." Her eyes smile and her mouth touches his for the briefest moment, a sweetness he can barely stand, a holiness his heart aches for.

"You said that already," His mouth smiles against hers once more and he accepts the warmth she'll eagerly give, the comfort she offers without pause.

But his eyes sober, his nerves threaten to harden back into steel. He rests his forehead against hers. "I can't promise that this is over," he whispers into the air that's gone blue with the moon and city outside.

'I know." Her answer is simple, yet profound. Her silence, his solace. "Let's go have some dinner."

He keeps his arm slung around her shoulder as they move into the kitchen, the comfort and the distance a perfect balance. "So, how _did_ you get in?"

A smug smile that brings out one of his own. "Wouldn't you like to know?"


End file.
